


With you here

by lwtmehome



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluffy, Happy Ending, I'm shit with happy endings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 16:46:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7230556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwtmehome/pseuds/lwtmehome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis hasn't been feeling well after his and Harry's break-up and it's not a secret. One drunken night at a club and a panicked Liam later, is Harry's help needed?</p><p>or, where Louis totally gets a panic attack and needs Harry to soothe him 'cause Liam's a twat who doesn't know what to do, and Louis gets a chance to win Haz back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With you here

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly? Turn around, do not read it. I've posted this because I wanted to post something and this is just sad. So, please. Do a favor for yourself and go read something better. 
> 
> ALSO. I'm so shitty with happy endings. They deserve to be happy, so I tried. But. Eh.
> 
> (you can try my other one-shots. Maybe they're better. ((they're so not)) )

So, maybe it really wasn't Louis' finest moment nor his finest day. He couldn't be mad at himself about lashing out on Liam though – he had a lot of other things to hate himself for. Maybe it was the alcohol in his blood or the ache in his chest, who knows. But Louis couldn't find it in himself to blame this all on himself. Not this too.  
Niall, however, didn't seem to agree with him.  
”Quit it out Louis! You've been like this for long enough,” Niall booms, his hand resting on Liam's shoulder.  
Louis blames it all on Niall's sober thoughts.  
The blonde bloke isn't even supposed to be here, Louis thinks bitterly, even though deep inside himself he knows this isn't Niall's fault. Nothing is.  
”What? You getting sick o' me too?” Louis spits, his eyes stinging, but he doesn't will for the tears to fall.  
He's done crying.  
”This isn't about that, mate,” Liam says, with a lot calmer voice, seemingly already put behind Louis' harsh words from earlier.  
”But you are though, aren't you?” Louis hiccups, the alcohol burning in his throat.  
He hates this.  
Niall rolls his eyes, but Liam remains calm, nudging the younger one a little.  
”Let's get outta here,” Niall murmurs, ”wouldn't want _this_ to be on the front page tomorrow.”  
Louis had been in this situation enough times to know that Niall is angry – nothing that couldn't be fixed the next day – and Liam is worried: if not about Louis' state of mind then about the lurking paparazzi.  
”C'mon,” Liam gestures Louis to follow and Louis might've put up a fight, if it wasn't for the fact he already felt like puking.  
They make their way down the street, leaving the club and its partying people behind. Niall stomps ahead, Liam walking alongside Louis, making sure the older wouldn't fall behind.  
Mark, as per usual, is already waiting at the nearest parking space with an unimpressed expression on his face.  
”Again?”  
Niall only grunts in response, jerking open the passenger side door.  
”Hi and sorry,” Liam says as the rest of them climb in the car.

It's quiet, nothing out of the ordinary Friday night. Louis is grumpy and he feels like crying and puking, but he won't do either before he reaches his flat.  
Liam is edging with worry and Niall refuses to make small talk with Mark, instead opting to text some of his 'less troublesome mates', as he had once enlightened Louis.  
Louis is dropped off first and Louis knows why; so that the rest of them could talk.  
Talk about Louis and about his shitty lifestyle, about his condition and whatever bullshit.  
He knows, he just never says it out loud.  
”Louis, this is you,” Mark informs, coming to a stop.  
As Louis is about to thank and get out, Liam speaks:  
”Can I stay at yours tonight? I have business around here tomorrow and mine's a bit far.”  
Louis hesitates.  
Liam sounds genuine, but Louis has learned to be wary. When Liam sounds genuine or innocent, it usually ends up to be a life lesson or something just as poetic.  
”Alright,” he says anyways, his feelings of guilt taking over his head momentarily.  
”Thanks for the ride,” Louis thanks Mark and hops out of the car.

The flat isn't messy, per se, just a little out of order.  
”Mate, when did you clean last?” Liam's face pulls into a disgusted frown, but Louis hears none of it.  
He rushes into the bathroom and topples over the toilet, emptying his stomach.  
”You alright?” Liam's there in a beat, patting Louis' back.  
”Yeah,” Louis manages, breathing heavily.

He likes to think that the stinging in his eyes is the result of the vigorous vomiting, but his heart hurts a lot more than his throat and stomach combined.  
Liam's hand should bring some comfort, but Louis is too used to doing this by himself for it to feel anything more than a nuisance. He doesn't push his friend away, though, too shaken to do that.

”At least you won't get a hangover,” Liam consoles, but it doesn't do anything for Louis, sadly.  
He rests his head on his arms, as he waits for a second wave, but it never comes. His breathing evens out, little by little, and the movements of Liam's hands get clearer, warmer, on Louis' back.  
”Thanks,” he mumbles eventually, not wanting to completely shut out a helping hand.  
Liam picks Louis up from the floor, and helps him into the kitchen.

”Sit down, I'll fix you some tea,” Liam orders, pushing a glass of cold water towards Louis, ”Drink that first.”  
Louis obeys, too tired and drunk to fight back at three in the morning.  
As Liam prepares the tea, Louis is given the time to think, the time he really doesn't need, to be quite honest.  
His thoughts start running, or more like leaping from one place to another, leaving behind tracks of _HarryHarryHarry._  
It stings in his eyes yet again, but fiercer this time and a single silent sob leaves his mouth, just as Liam places the cup in front of him.  
”Hey, hey,” the other is next to Louis before Louis can tell him not to come closer.  
”You okay?”  
Louis nods, wiping away few escaping tears. Even his alcohol drugged brain cells scream for him to get a grip, telling him he's stronger.  
”Harry?” Liam murmurs, the same hand from just a minute ago, back comforting Louis.  
One name spelled out in the darkness of Louis' kitchen is enough to send the empowering thoughts down the drain. ”Yeah,” Louis admits easily, his brain already shutting down slowly.  
Liam probably doesn't want to know what Louis is thinking, he's not asking at least. But Louis feels like he's all alone with his thoughts. Niall has been siding with Harry, taking care of the baby of the band, Zayn's gone and Louis' family totally oblivious to anything happening in Louis' life.  
He needs to say something.  
And even though, Louis has had so many complex thoughts about Harry during the past two months, so many unexplainable feelings and aches in his chest  
”I miss him,” are the only words leaving his mouth.  
”Of course you do,” Liam nods, eager to agree with Louis, but Louis doesn't care what Liam says.  
Liam doesn't have to say anything for all he cares.  
”My head, my heart and my eyes hurt, Liam, and it's not because of the alcohol contrary to the general belief,” Louis scowls, ”it's because of _him._ ”  
The words are harsh, full of hurt and venom, because that's how Louis feels.  
He's angry.  
Did he not fight enough? Did he not sacrifice enough for Harry, during all those years?  
Was he really not good enough? These kind of thoughts were common by now, but also very dangerous, Louis knows. But the thing is, Louis can't exactly stop them, nor really slow them down, not at this hour anyways.  
Louis had given Harry everything, he had promised to give Harry whatever he'd ever come to want--  
”I couldn't give it to him, Liam,” Louis' voice breaks a little, ”I couldn't give him what he wanted.”  
There's sorrow in Liam's eyes, hurt and pain, as he tries to say something, but Louis knows it's harder than most people think. He's not asking for understanding or consoling words - he's really not asking for anything but Harry.  
”I'm sure you gave him all you could, Lou,” Liam tries weakly, but Louis waves it off like an empty promise.  
”None of it matters, does it? I couldn't give him the one thing he asked,” Louis is bitter, but not because of Harry; because of himself.  
”He wanted to be free,” Louis whispers from between his teeth, hot tears falling from his eyes by now.  
Even though they burn Louis' eyes, he refuses to blink them away.  
”Louis..” Liam begins, only to be interrupted.  
”I could've given him that. I should've-- If I just had went up to them, told them I'd buy us out or whatever-- but I cared about image and the fans, Liam. The fans!” Louis is full on hiccuping and crying, burying his face to his hands.  
”It's not like that! Harry cares about the fans too, Louis. He wouldn't have let you buy you out,” Liam assures, the circles drawn on Louis' back getting wider.  
Louis is shaking with cries and tears, his face hidden from Liam, and even though the other's words are sensible, he can't get a grasp of himself anymore. If Louis wasn't as shaken and panic struck as he is, he would probably tell Liam how great of a friend he is for not pointing out the fact that Louis had actually considered breaking their band for Harry's sake.

His thoughts are jumping back on the Harry bandwagon, his brain already sliding into one of the attacks he's been having for a year or so. And he bloody misses Harry, and that's nothing less than the truth.  
”I want to call him- No, I want to see him Liam, please,” Louis begs, turning to face his best friend, only to be met with couple of brown, glistening eyes.  
Louis doesn't think Liam would comply, neither does he think he'd be asking this if it weren't for his throat tightening dangerously. ”Fuck,” Liam sniffles, scrambling for his phone from somewhere down his pockets.  
”Answer, answer, dammit,” he's murmuring, biting his thumbnail as he waits for Harry to pick up.  
”Harry. Haz. Hey. No, listen, I'm fine. You gotta come here. Lou's,” Liam's eyes are filled with worry, they are looking at Louis' shaking shoulders and his ears are clearly listening to Louis' desperate cries.  
”God dammit, Harry!” Liam curses, earning a broken gasp from Louis.  
”Don't yell at him,” the older hisses, his lower lip quivering.  
Louis feels pathetic.  
Liam doesn't listen to Louis.  
”I've never seen him like this, Harry. I don't _know_ what to do!” Liam's borderline panicking, but Louis can't even out his breath.  
He knows a panic attack has hit him, but there's no chance his drunken brain can stop it now. 

”Get here, H,” Liam orders, ending the call with that.  
”Lou, try to breath, please,” Liam is sliding his hands up and down Louis' arms, but it's effect was next to nothing.  
Louis is already hyperventilating, his thoughts running into brick walls and his hands clammy and shaking, numbing by the minute.  
His throat is burning, ragged breaths scratching his throat, his lungs burning with the lack of air.  
”Don't die on me, Tommo.”  
And Louis probably would've laughed, except he couldn't and Liam's white face didn't really pull out the laugh of him. 

The knock on the door makes Liam get on the move, running to the entrance hall.  
”Thank God you're here,” Liam's voice carries through the flat.  
Louis has just enough time to feel panic, a different kind of panic, rising in his gut, before Harry walks into the kitchen with worried eyes.  
”Gosh, Liam,” he mumbles as soon as he sees Louis, half lying on top the kitchen counter, half hanging off of the stool, trying to catch his breath. Louis pretty much knows how he looks right now: his hair's a messy nest, his eyelashes stuck together in a wet lump and his cheeks red, but only because he's been rubbing them so much. It's nothing new to Harry, though.  
Harry makes a quick work of taking out one of Louis' brown paper bags, one of Harry's purchases, and then he's dragging Louis out to the balcony.  
”Come on, Lou,” Harry opens the paper bag, pressing it onto Louis' mouth, his left hand coming to rest around Louis' neck.

Louis is distinctly aware of Liam gnawing on his thumbnails at the door, but Harry's green eyes are capturing his gaze, demanding Louis' full attention.  
”In,” Harry demonstrates, breathing in deeply, ”and out.” The younger exhales, just as deeply.  
There are tears in Louis' eyes through the whole time Harry's holding him in place, breathing with him. He can feel himself calming down, his muscles relaxing slowly. Harry doesn't let go of him before he's absolutely sure Louis is calmed down and breathing on his own.  
”Good?” Harry whispers, as if he's afraid of scaring Louis, which is obviously just bloody ridiculous. Louis thinks he should say that, but there's no point. Harry's seen Louis at his worst and this isn't even near to that.  
”Yeah,” Louis manages quietly, smiling a little.  
He takes a shaky breath, before thanking Harry properly.  
”I'm sorry you had to come,” he adds.  
Harry's shaking his head.  
”Don't be silly. You would've died with only Liam here,” Harry huffs, absentmindedly pushing Louis' hanging quiff back.  
The movement freezes in the middle, however, as the younger realizes what he's doing.  
”I--,” Harry's eyes are comically widened, except there's nothing comic about this situation, Louis is able to think, before the used-to-be curly haired man is pulling back hastily.  
”No,” Louis croaks, catching Harry's wrist with desperation.  
Harry stops, his steeled face showing cracks here and there.  
Louis knows, because Harry keeps glancing at the door, where Liam no longer stands. Louis knows Harry's nervous and it makes him feel a bit braver, a bit more in control. It's not right to not let Harry go, but he's really way past the point of not wanting to seem desperate.  
”Don't go, Harry,” Louis pleads, drawing in a shuddery breath.  
”Why? Louis, this isn't--” Harry's shaking his head, but he can't find the words, Louis can tell.  
”I miss you. Don't go, Hazza.”  
A small, almost inaudible gasp leaves Harry's lips, something the other hadn't let slip out in what must've been _years._  
Harry has been calm and collected for way too long, only making rational decisions. Louis wants to bring out the old Harry, if only just for the moment. ”Louis,” Harry's voice is desperate, he's having a struggle of his own.  
”What? Are you saying you don't miss me? Are you saying you don't _want_ to stay?” Louis pushes, hastily taking a step closer.  
”I'm.. not. I just-- I left for a reason and you're drunk,” Harry reasons, shaking his head.  
”I know. I wasn't enough then, Haz, but I'm not giving up. I can't, Harry,” Louis sucks in a breath, ”drunk or not, I can't stop thinking about us, you.”  
Harry's rubbing his face with his free hand and Louis can't help but notice that the other isn't trying to escape anymore, his hand limp in Louis' hold.  
It's quiet for a while: Louis doesn't want to rush Harry while the younger man seems to be muttering something to himself, gnawing on his lower lip and frowning.  
”Lou, you were more than enough,” he says eventually, ”you _are_ more than enough. It was never about that, you know that.”  
Harry's eyes are begging, begging for Louis' drunken brain to find their sense, but it really isn't just Louis' drunken brain that believe he's not enough.  
”I--”  
”No,” Harry says sternly, ”I _love_ you. All of you. It was, is, real, Louis. I'd never lie about that, or about anything. I told you, you made me happy.”  
Harrys' frowning and Louis can't help but find it endearing, even considering the situation.  
”Made?” Louis mutters, searching Harry's eyes for something, something he's not completely sure about.  
”Made, make – doesn't matter. It doesn't change a thing,” Harry's not looking Louis in the eyes.  
”Of course it does! Bloody hell, H. If I make you happy, then what the fuck are we having this conversation for, hm? I only want you in my life and in my bed, that's all I'm asking,” Louis takes a step closer and Harry doesn't back away.

Something flickers in Harry's eyes and for a moment Louis thinks that Harry might cry, but he's almost forgotten how strong his baby really is.  
”'s that the truth? Even after everything?” Harry seems like he's ashamed of himself, which Louis can't understand at all.  
”What are you on about, Harry? Of course, it is. That's all I've ever wanted, since I was bloody 18,” Louis moans, not waiting for Harry's approval, as he pulls the dearest person to ever exist in his arms and buries his own face in the crook of Harry's neck.  
”Don't be such a knob,” he murmurs.  
Harry's arms slowly circle around Louis' waist and after a second or two, Louis is pretty sure he can feel Harry's hot tears dripping on to his neck. Sure enough, a small sniffle confirms Louis' suspicions.  
”I'm sorry Lou,” Harry breaths, his arms tightening around Louis' smaller frame.  
”Shut up, love.”  
Louis knows everything's so fucking unresolved, all of it, and that Harry might regret everything in the morning, but he can't help smiling. His eyes are now dry and they're prickling, but he's smiling.  
”Hazza.”  
”What?” Harry's crying now, his tears are soaking up Louis' t-shirt but Louis just wants two things.  
”Look at me, babe,” he says and Harry does.  
He's sniffling and wiping his eyes, a teary laugh escaping his lips.  
”I love you, Harry,” a quirk in Harry's lips, ”now kiss me and come fill the empty space in _our_ bed, yeah?” 

For a second there, Louis thinks Harry might say no, but it turns out he couldn't have been more wrong.  
”Only if you'll have me,” it's accompanied with the signature Harry smile, dimples and all, something Louis hasn't seen in a while.  
”Cheeky little thing,” Louis mumbles, kissing the grin right off of Harry's lips, savoring the salty taste.  
”Umm, I think I'll go, yeah?” Liam's uncertain voice comes from somewhere near the door, the only thing he gets as an answer is Louis waving hand and Harry's small moan-y murmur.

That night, as Louis tucks Harry's head under his chin, he couldn't be more happy about anything in the universe. He knows things can get ugly in the morning, Harry can start regretting his decision to stay and backtrack, but at least Louis has got enough of his self-esteem back to ask for Harry to stay, and actually make it happen, if in need.  
But somehow, Louis also feels that Harry isn't going anywhere. Maybe it's the calm breaths leaving Harry's slightly agape mouth or the way the younger had instantly relaxed in to his arms, Louis' not really sure.

And frankly, he doesn't care either. Him and Harry will never be simple or explainable, no matter what. Maybe he should just stop trying to understand, and accept his faith, as cheesy as it sounds. 

With a small kiss to Harry's hair, Louis closes his eyes and curls around Harry's slender body, breathing in the familiar scent. 

Oh yeah, it's his boy.


End file.
